


Unamed Vast Error Highschool AU - Preview 1

by yntsire



Category: Homestuck, Vast Error
Genre: Couple bickering, Fights, Highschool AU, Jocks, Other, Vast Error - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 17:33:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18056993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yntsire/pseuds/yntsire
Summary: Just a preview of the first chapter of a Human, High School Vast Error AU. This is probably the first half of chapter 1. Hope you enjoy. Feedback always welcome!





	Unamed Vast Error Highschool AU - Preview 1

Thursday, four in the afternoon, the school library. A place everyone knew about, but very few ever used. Ignoring the fact that the larger public library was literally across the street for those who actually wanted to find something to read, the high school's domicile of diction had little appeal to any of the various cliques universally found in all educational institutions. It was kept too quiet for the popular crowd to bleat in, so they flocked to the nearby coffee shops. It was hard to fuck around without consequence, so the future frat kids played grab ass in the parking lot. The jocks had their numerous facilities (weight room, pool, track & sports fields, and three separate gyms), while the art kids (performance and creative alike) had an entire wing to themselves. The nerds, academically gifted or otherwise, seemed to find more comfort in their small nooks and crannies littered across campus. The library was too public for their hushed whispers in what had to be foreign tongues. So thus the library, a quiet, well-known, but unattractive place, remained as it always was. It's only occupants a group of valley-girls getting tutored, said tutors slowly decaying inside, the freshmen whose ride home was quite late, and a lone figure assuming his natural position; face-first in an oversized beanbag he had dragged into a forgotten corner.

This was Arcjec Voorat, a Junior of average standing academically, and the libraries only frequent visitor. In fact, he was willing to bet he knew this place better than anyone who had ever come through those newly camera-rigged triple set of doors. Everyday, like clockwork, he would arrive ten or fifteen minutes after the final bell for the day. He had his movements planned precisely. To minimize his contact with his so called peers, he’d take his sweet ass time packing up his things at the end of his last period. His Government teacher paid him little mind after a week of being the last student out the door. The closest stairwell to that class was across the hall, in perfect view of Arcjec's seat. When he saw his chance, he’d attempt (and fail) to subtly make a beeline for it. 

Down the flight of stairs, an immediate right down a narrow hallway meant for the custodial staff, and a final quick right and Arcjec had reached his destination, the library. Often his usual “nesting spot” in the nearly hidden back corner would remain undisturbed. Today he was not so fortunate. He'd have to make an ass of himself by dragging a bean bag almost three times his size back to its rightful home. Sometimes he wouldn't even sit on it. If anything, its primary use was to camouflage himself from any (all) unwanted contact. You can laugh, but seeing as it's never failed him, Arcjec had little reason to abandon the practice.

Arcjec would easily admit had no real reason for doing any of this. He had a car, lived nearby, and in reality almost never had to deal with anyone. On the flip side, he had little justification not to continue this exhausted ritual. He had no obligations to any extra circulars, on top of no desire to ever have any. He was smart enough to keep his head above water, but to stay well out of the spotlight. There was no reason to rush home either. His parents were never around, engaging in whatever facets or fancies of their own psychoses that somehow wrote the checks. Sometimes he entertained the thought of them being wanted criminals. On the run to protect their innocent child, but unable to free themselves of their illegal itches. That was, sadly, only a fantasy as far as he knew. They were just never around. Since he'd been able to start legally driving himself around, a year or so after he had started doing it, gave even less reason for them to show their faces.

So here is where Arcjec found himself, as he did almost every school day, waiting for whatever thing to make him to move from his nest would show its face. He was willing to bet it would be the reigning champion, hunger. Meals were never something he spent energy worrying about. They would happen at some point, sometimes even thrice a day. Even if a box of Pop-Tarts might’ve stretched the definition of “meal.” Arcjec retrieved his relatively new phone from his sweatshirt pocket, and set the time to some random increment. When it went off he’d make his way back to his locker and then to his car. If it never went off, well then he'd just lie here until he broke free of this mortal coil due to hunger.

Arcjec didn’t think he was  _ that _ lucky.

 

\------------

 

Surprising no one, least of all himself, Arcjec’s locker was once again jammed shut and refusing to budge. His phone had gone off after thirty-two minutes and eight seconds. As he trudged his way to the locker, he was wondering how life would manage to smack him in the groin before he left. Expecting otherwise was beyond naive. It turns out having to enter five, thirty-one, nineteen half a dozen times just to try and pry open the taunting blue door was today’s parting middle finger to him.

“ _ Well fuck you too, Thursday,”  _ Arcjec mentally responded, “ _ let’s do this all over again next week.” _

For some bizarre reason Arcjec (possessing zero strength anywhere in his body) couldn’t manage to get the door open. He sure gave it an effort, and could only imagine how the painful contortions he found his body in would’ve play to the nonexistent crowd. Maybe they would’ve tossed some change his way. If he was lucky, which he wasn’t, he might’ve been able to refill his gas tank if he struggled with his locker for long enough.

After five minutes of that struggling Arcjec found he was now both legitimately tired and very over this. He gave an out of character sweep of the hallway, confirming the fact he was still indeed alone. Crouching over his backpack he dug his hands into the cluster of papers, books, and his laptop, until his finger grazed his target. At the bottom of the bag, hidden like a forbidden treasure, was a small zipped-up pouch. Begrudgingly he pulled back the zipper and pulled out the cursed totem inside.

In his hand Arcjec now held a heavily modified all-purpose tool. Something that if he was found with there’s a good chance he’d be suspended for bringing a weapon to school. For all he knew, it was one. Anytime Arcjec pulled this thing out, he discovered another brand new and very sharp attachment hiding inside it’s cylindrical body. A certain someone had given it to him a few years ago, to help him with “all da boss LIFE HACKS, brah!” Arcjec was very thankful that were not witness to him giving into their mania.

Every locker in the school was side by side in units of seven or eight. Arcjec’s was the rare exception in that his only neighbored one other. Every unit shared a common defect that left their latching mechanism exposed on underside of their respective door frames. While those defects were covered up with a thick black rubber tarp on the bottom, it was nothing the all-purpose tool’s mods couldn’t handle. 

One defacing of school property with a banned maybe-weapon later, Arcjec's locker door flew open right into his face. The answer to what had caused the jamming was easily found as Arcjec picked himself up off the floor. An identical duplicate of his sweatshirt hung with a newly freed and mangled sleeve. It likely had gotten caught on the latch during the lunch break. That was the only time Arcjec would've visited his locker before the end of the day. To maximize efficiency, Arcjec visited his locker only twice everyday. At Lunch to swap out his morning class materials for his afternoon schedule, as well as after the end of the day to swap them back. Both times were reliably void of people.

As Arcjec began this cycle anew, he looked back to the hoodie and pondered just taking it with him. He dismissed the idea quickly. He'd learned the hard way the need for keeping a spare top at school, and wasn't eager to learn it again. He'd take it home tomorrow anyway, and put the original and the doppelgänger through the wash over the weekend. On the inside of the door hung a small, decorate mirror that someone else had placed there. He usually just rolled his eyes at seeing it, but took this chance to check his face. The door had left a not very nice mark, but it thankfully wasn’t bleeding and would probably fade by tomorrow. Carefully shutting the door to avoid a repeat of this time-wasting scenario tomorrow, Arcjec made his way down the hall and towards the closest exit.

 

\------

 

Within a week of your Freshman year, you learnt several vital laws of surviving “the commute.” If you didn’t have a car, you waited out front of the main entrance for your ride. If you had a ride, you’d likely have to use one of the school’s myriad of side-entrances after two or three minute walk. If you weren’t a Senior, you didn’t even entertain the thought using the creatively named “Senior Lot.” The end in store for you if you even tried was a fate Arcjec wouldn’t wish upon anyone.

The problem Arcjec had found himself in was that the Senior Lot was the closest space for any student to park in. As much as his survival instinct hounded him to refrain from pissing off the Seniors, his unyielding resolve to do as little as possible was not so easily kowtowed. A truce between them was met after Arcjec had unknowingly helped an old woman who lived in the gated condominium complex bordering the school. Separated by bushes up medium, the old woman allowed Arcjec to use the parking spot she no longer had a car for. This was one of the real reasons behind his routine hour-long delay in going home. It might've been easier just to park on a nearby side street and walk, but if that was the case Arcjec might as well have just walked to school. That wasn’t going to happen.

Thankfully Arcjec had based his scheme on the proven scientific fact that most of his peers were as eager as he was to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the school after the final bell. The senior lot, as routine, was now sparsely populated. With an unwelcome hustle, Arcjec was slipping inside his car without a trace.

His car itself was only a few years old, Arcjec wasn't sure of the exact date. An SUV with enough space incase he ever needed it, the car was a gift from his parents for getting his license. Before that it was the car he had learned to drive in, so there was some sense in keeping him in a vehicle he was comfortable with. The darker metallic-blue was thankfully far from eye catching, and so far no major damage or repairs had come Arcjec's way. The downside was that car was just old enough to lack any sort of touch controls or media center. The standard radio was equipped with an AUX jack, which forced Arcjec to take responsibility for his own entertainment. When it came to music though, Arcjec wasn't sure he trusted anyone but himself.

From his other hoodie pocket Arcjec pulled out a his car-ride savior and plugged it into the AUX cord. It was an old iPod, one of the small square ones that was the first to do video. It had certainly seen some action in it's time, but had yet to fail him. Its red color was worn down into a syrupy orange; a color Arcjec had grown fond off. Now came the hardest decision Arcjec had to make everyday, his music selection. One of the few things Arcjec invested considerable time and effort into was cultivating his myriad of playlists. Each of them was tailored to fit any mood Arcjec found himself in. But today there wasn’t any one way in particular he found himself in. So instead, after at least five minutes of internal debate, Arcjec selected an album over a playlist.

He leaned back into his seat as the alternative rock began playing at just the right volume. As the beats began to fill up the car, Arcjec could feel his eyelids growing heavier. There wasn’t truly anything stopping him from just falling asleep in this chamber of tunes. Well, except for the car’s battery potentially dying. Which would require him to either have it towed to a repair shop, or even worse having to ask someone to jumpstart it. Those two thoughts swiftly butchered through Arcjec’s brief touch of zen. With a begrudging growl he came back to being alert for the sake of staying out of an accident, and started his engine. 

Immediately Arcjec was greeted with a message on his dashboard of his car’s “Low Tire Pressure.” Something he might’ve taken seriously, had that message not popped up every single day he drove this thing anywhere. The warning was nice and all, but after blatantly lying to his face Arcjec just ignored it. Clicking through the messages with the dial, his car then informed him that his seatbelt was not on. It was just a new enough model to display this warning every time he forgot, but old enough that the car wouldn’t stop itself from being driven if he didn’t put it on. Fumbling with the belt, after having pulled it too far out, Arcjec couldn’t help but wonder what good this slightly fraying leather strip was actually doing. Putting it on did at least keep him from getting pulled over, so he didn’t fight it too much. All of the unwelcome disturbances to his somewhat calm vibe dealt with, Arcjec threw the car in reverse to pull out of his parking space. He only got as far putting it in reverse when a new message popped up on the dashboard: “Passenger Door Open.” Which couldn’t be at all right, as no one ever road in his car. No one except-

“So this is where you were hiding,” came an unfortunately familiar voice.

Standing there in the now opened passenger doorway, was someone who Arcjec knew quite well. She stood a head taller than almost everyone in the school, with an intimidating figure sculpted through the daunting menagerie of sports she participated in. From the way she stood in the doorway, you’d be forgiven for thinking she was holding the entire car in place herself. Which would’ve been a comical over exaggeration, if you didn’t know better. Height, muscles, and figure aside, the most striking and menacing feature about her was the intricate and very prominent face paint that at this point was practically just her skin. The pattern, which never even slightly altered day after day, made just a glance from her feel like a predator eyeing its next prey. 

This was Taz, someone Arcjec had come to know quite well over the last few years of his life. Someone he could give that exact description of without any second-guessing. Yes, she was really that fucking scary. No, the face-paint was not a joke. It was almost like magic in its consistency. Arcjec remembered one time as kids when they had a sleepover. His only goal that night was to just catch a glimpse of her putting it on or taking it off. He got nothing, except a lot of noogies and chokeholds. Even now with all her sports and workout activities, being drenched in sweat or cooling off with water never even hinted at making it run down her face.

Arcjec was sure the face-paint’s primary purpose was because Taz liked it, so “ _ Step the fuck off. _ ” However its secondary purpose was to intimidate the living shit out of, well, everyone. So much so that the first day of their freshmen year was the first and last time any sort of authority made any attempt to reprimand her for wearing it. Its effects were so potent, Arcjec had seemingly missed the parts where Taz has thrown her unusually high amount stuff in his back seat, and was now waving and snapping at his face to get his attention.

“-jec,” he heard as he came back to reality “Arcjec! Seriously, get your shit together! I’m not going to let you drive if you’re groggy from doing fuck all today.”

Arcjec turned his head away to rub his eyes. Having now returned to his senses, he looked back at Taz with a more irritated and confused look.

“There he is,” Taz smirked, ruffling a hand through his unruly black hair, “Welcome back to the planet numbnuts.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Arcjec responded. To anyone else his tone of voice usually came off as uncouth or derogatory, which was sort of the point. Unfortunately, Taz had grown an annoyingly prominent resistance to his vile. Even now she almost seemed to thrive on it.

“ ‘The fuck’ I am doing here is getting my lift home,” Taz answered, “One which you said you’d provide.”

“Since the fuck when? This is news to me!” Arcjec shot back.

“Since...” Taz began without missing a beat. She patted down her athletic shorts pocket, then suddenly reached in the back seat and retrieved her phone from one of the bags. “Since around four thirteen.”

Arcjec leaned back against his window.

“I call bullshit.”

“Ouch, sorry you lose,” Taz taunted as she pressed her phone into Arcjec’s face a little too forcefully. On the screen was a text conversation. His name and picture gracing the recipient information.

(4:13) Me: Oi, Arcjec, can i get a lift home? 

(4:13) Me: My practice is ending early, around 4:30-ish.

(4:16) Arcjec: knmljnjbf

(4:17) Me: You’re asleep in the library again, aren’t you?

(4:20) Arcjec: bu2fn ;kjdem  XDXD

(4:21) Me: Taking that as a yes.

(4:21) Me: To both the library and the ride. 

(4:23) Me: Stopping by the library to wake your sorry ass up myself if you’re still off in snoozeland. 

(4:24) Me: You’ve been warned.

“Better luck next time,” Taz preened.

“Okay, it’s not bullshit that I agreed,” Arcjec said, “It’s bullshit that you took accidental sleep replies to get what you wanted.”

“Hey, you do what’s necessary to get things done,” Taz replied, “I’ve told you that before.”

Clearly the undertones of his words either weren’t getting through, or were being ignored. Arcjec glanced back at the jumble of bags now littered in his back seat.

“What’s with all your crap?” he asked.

“Oh, well that’s a dump truck full of horse shit,” Taz answered and Arcjec doubted the validity of, “Seems like one of the dumb fuck seniors got caught with some weed in his sports bag today. Whole athletic wing is being cleaned out and searched, so we all get to bring all of our shit home tonight and back again tomorrow.”

“Wouldn’t that,” Arcjec had to take a pause, “Wouldn’t that just make it easier for someone to just hide their stuff away without being caught?”

Taz opened an app on her phone and a loud air horn sound started blaring.

“Points to Arcjec for figuring out the loophole!” Taz mockingly celebrated as she took a seat and put her feet up on the dashboard, “The school knows there are more people bringing shit like that in, but doesn’t want to deal with the bad pr or risking losing any more of their ‘ _ star players. _ ’ ”

“Wouldn’t this just get out stupidly fast? Like, for example, you telling me about it?” Arcjec asked.

Taz could only give an uncaring shrug.

“Probably going to be a school wide search tomorrow,” Taz gave a feigned warning with a lazy finger over her lips, “You didn’t hear it from me though.”

“So that’s why you wanted a ride? Just to haul your shit home?”

“And to haul it back tomorrow.” Taz said with a grin.

“So you’re just using me for my car?” Arcjec stated, “Don’t you walk here for fitness or something anyway?”

Taz’s grin soured a bit.

“Yeah, I do,” She said quieter. She looked away and ran a hand through her wild mane of hair.

“But you already carried all that shit here, so you could carry it back to your place easily.”

Taz didn’t respond. Instead her silence was filled with the start of next song over the speakers.

“So, what this all comes to a head with is the fact that you really don’t need me, right?” Arcjec pressed. Too far it would seem as Taz turned back to him in a flash. 

“Are you  _ really _ going to  _ fight me _ on this?” She growled with unmistakable anger deep in her throat. Arcjec knew better than anyone to keep Taz as far away from pissed as you could manage. Somehow though, his survival instinct was flatly ignored in favor of his not so smart mouth. Anyone in this situation would back down almost immediately just upon seeing Taz’s visible rage, but Arcjec was similarly immune from its effects like she was from his vile tongue. Though not nearly as much as he would’ve liked.

“Ey boys, would you lookie there! The man-bitch is about to eat that underclass retard!”

Taz’s rage and Arcjec’s defiance where both suddenly put on hold as they started to look for the illiterate twatwaffle who had obviously just shouted their way. 

“Nah man, little bitch boy looks like he just got rejected for asking her to suck him off,” came another similarly unpleasant voice.

“Thas a damn shame, probably the only action she’s ever gonna get outside a prison shower,” came a third.

Still searching for the voice, Arcjec suddenly noticed Taz glaring directly behind him with a scowl. Before he could turn to see at what, he was suddenly pressed tightly between her and the cold glass of the window. Taz was now leaning on him and rolling said window down. Arcjec, now able to tilt his head back out of the newfound opening, was just barely able to see three bulked out seniors hollering at them. They looked the exact same; not related, each just that extremely generic. Each sported the same far too short haircut, and matching athletic shorts in the school’s silver and maroon. Their shirts were unsurprisingly nowhere to be found on their admittedly toned upper bodies.

“Oh damn boys,” said the first one, “Looks like she might’ve changed her tune and taken a liking to his shrimp dick.”

Arcjec could feel his eyes lower (or raise due to being upside down?) with nothing but contempt. He glanced up to see Taz’s presumably had as well.

“Can we help you?” Taz barked out with little enthusiasm.

“Nah, we’re just here to watch the virgin graduation show,” the first replied.

“Not everyday a weak little dick-cheese gets plowed by the inbred shemale,” the second added.

“Wow,” Arcjec commented to Taz, “They are horrible at insults.”

“You have no idea,” Taz replied, still glaring at the three seniors.

“Like, actually _ the _ worst I have ever seen,” Arcjec went on, “I’m almost impressed by it,”

“Don’t be,” Taz seemed to order as she looked down at him, “They survive on any petty victory they can get.”

“Even when I’m clearly fucking with them?”

“Especially when you’re fucking with them. They’re the kind of people who just love hearing their own name.”

“It’s like they were held back three years in a row in ‘Remedial Serving Someone 101.’ ”

“More like they flunked out with flying colors.” Taz chuckled a little too loudly.

“Yo, the fuck you saying!?” the third one almost stammered out, “I’ll kick the shit outta you for talking smack!”

Arcjec’s arms were trapped at his sides, so he couldn’t cover up the reflexive laugh at the now simmering senior’s threat. Taz seemed to take some pride in this, and just smirked at the three.

“There’s a reason they keep the boy’s and girl’s teams separate, and it’s not just to save your own egos,” Taz taunted.

“Ey, ey, Benny, just ignore the bitch,” the second guy tried to keep the third from doing something stupid.

“Fuck that shit man. I can take the  _ Insane Clown Posse _ tramp, easy!”

Arcjec could hear the seconds come crashing to a halt, as the soon to be deadman started approaching his car. Arcjec started to feel uncomfortably warm as Taz’s rage began to swell back up to a fever pitch. There were few ways to truly piss her off, and any sort of derogatory comment about the face-painted professional world, especially in regards to the “heretics”, was like lobbing a lit match into a pool of gasoline.

“You’re a bold little boy with a deATH WISH, AIN’T YA!?” Taz growled deeply.

“Dunno about that,” the kitten further antagonized the hellhound, “but I think I can’t wait to see your fuckugly, beatnik face under all that sperm-cream.  _ Poemme _ .”

And that was one of the  _ other _ things that would set Taz off. Arguably the worst, at least if you wanted to see tomorrow.

“I’LL GRANT YOUR WISH!” Taz now roared at the walking dead man, starting to pull herself over Arcjec and out of the window, “REAL QUICK!!!” 

This was now getting far too out of hand. As much as the punk deserved it, Arcjec did not feel like being an accessory to a quick and likely brutal set of murders. Taz’s squirming managed to free Arcjec enough to lock the doors. It would do little good, as Taz was nearly halfway out the window at this point. Arcjec strained himself to get her to even notice him trying to pull her in. The still playing iPod was kicked up into his face by the very angry clown. The current song playing was: “ _ Get Busy Living, or Get Busy Dying.” _

“ _ Oh go fuck yourself,”  _ Arcjec screamed internally.

“Taz, fucking stop!” Arcjec screamed externally in a somewhat nervous tone, “Get back in the goddamn car before you break something!”

The reality of a six foot five raging muscle girl, who was about to turn him into paste, cooled the third senior, Benny, off. To the point of turning him sheet white in fear. Said fear made Taz squirm even harder to deliver the goods, like a shark having smelled blood. Arcjec pulled up on the window button and held it firm while still trying to get Taz back inside.

“Jesus Taz, fucking-” Arcjec had trouble keeping his train of thought with the raging Taz in front of him. The rising window made contact with her prominently defined abs, and Arcjec could swear he heard them sizzle on the cold glass. He was pretty confident Taz could easily contort the rest of her body out the remaining open space, but she didn’t. Maybe it was due to her anger, or possibly because he was also in the way. Whatever the reason, this gave Arcjec enough of a view to see he could pull his car forward to get out of here. He took his shot.

“Taz, get back in here!” Arcjec called in a firmer voice. The sudden movement of the car seemed to bring Taz somewhat off the deep end, and she reluctantly pulled herself back inside. Arcjec took one last glance at the now paralyzed trio of shirtless seniors, who looked much smaller than they did before.

“I hope you dipshits realized I just saved your pathetic lives,” Arcjec called back, “No need to thank me or anything.”

Arcjec looked over just in time to see Taz struggling to unlock her door. He hit the gas to keep her from also doing something stupid, giving his rescuee’s the bird as he pulled out onto the main road. They disappeared from view just as fast as their insults did, but Arcjec could still feel the simmering rage of the now quiet Taz beside him. So much for keeping his head down.

\---------------------------------------


End file.
